a season spurned

monetClaude Monet

i may have turned my back on you
poor spring-
you seem to be standing
by my door
outside my window
begging me to play
to see and smell and feel
all the glories you have
waiting for me
the way you always have
instead, i stay inside
hardly bearing to look out
my window
i know, i know you want me
to join you in a frolic
but, they say i shouldn’t
so, my friend, perhaps
when we have traveled
round the sun once more
we shall reacquaint ourselves

ceg 4.25.2020

2 thoughts on “a season spurned

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